A Summer's Day
by BloodIsntEnough
Summary: Bakura regrets getting angry at Marik as he sits next to the Egyptian's hospital bed. Light Thiefshipping.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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><p>Bakura stared out the window. He didn't see the sunlight sparkling through the leaves of the giant Japanese Pagoda Tree outside, he didn't hear the birds tweet and sing their merry songs to the world as they flew in and out between branches as they sought food.<p>

No.

None of it existed to Bakura as he looked outside.

_How long had it been? How long since…_

Almost translucent eyelids hid glazed maroon eyes.

He didn't want to think about it.

And yet… It was all he did. He couldn't stop himself.

Once it had been so easy to ignore unwanted emotions and memories.

But that was a long time ago_. Long before…_

A dry sob escaped Bakura's parted lips, his fingers rising to press at his lips. No, he wasn't going to think about it.

But even as his eyes opened to gaze in unseeing sorrow out a window he did not remember existing, he did think about it.

_Marik…_

Another dry sob. And another. Then the tears refused to remain prisoner and escaped through their only exit, spilling down his sunken cheeks and into his lank silver hair.

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><p><em>Why are you crying, Bakura?<em>

_Where are we, Bakura?_

_Please, stop crying…_

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><p>Golden hair haloed amber skin. White bandages shone in the sunlit room, contrasting against the much darker skin of the boy they encased. He could hear the sobs coming from he who never cried. He knew his voice so well, who else could it be? He wanted to touch his silver haired company, to hold him close and let him cry.<p>

But his arms were so heavy… So very heavy…

_Bakura…_

_Why are you crying…?_

Marik couldn't even open his amethyst eyes. He couldn't twitch his lips into a comforting smile.

But he could listen.

Listen and wonder.

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><p><em>Get out<em>, Bakura had screamed. _Get out and never come back. I hate you; I never want to see you again._

Marik had been crying then, not him.

Bakura never cried.

Even then, he didn't know why he was saying those words. Words he never wanted to utter again, words he wanted obliterated from his memory and from the world forever.

They did not deserve to be spoken.

He had been so angry, angrier than he had been in a long time.

He couldn't even remember why. Everything was blurry now.

_Marik blindly running out of their house and out…_

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean… I didn't think…" The words were all but whispers, the long-ago Thief King's firm voice betraying him with a weaker substitute.

…_onto the street…_

"I was just…so angry…I wasn't thinking…I didn't know…"

…_tires screeching on asphalt…_

Bakura's voice failed him. The words wouldn't come. And Marik…

…he probably couldn't hear him anyway.

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><p><em>No<em>, Marik pleaded in his head, _don't stop. Please. Keep talking… Please…_

"If you die I'll never forgive myself."

Somehow, Bakura must have heard his begging. Wanted him to stop talking and shut up, so he started talking to keep Marik quiet…

He knew deep down that Bakura had not heard him, his pleas unheard by the one they were meant for.

But his pain-killer hazed mind's explanation sounded better to him.

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><p>Stopping seemed impossible now. The words wanted to come, the pathetic begging for forgiveness, soft, heartbroken whispers of apology…<p>

…His_ broken and bleeding body in the middle of the street…_

Another sob cracked in his throat. _I never told him, now he'll never know…_

It was too late anyway…

Wasn't it?

_Running to where he lay…_

"I didn't know you would run out like that… I thought… You'd run to your room… Like usual."

A tiny, miniscule fond smirk touched Bakura's lips. Marik loved his room… He had spent months making it _just so._

…_cradling _his_ head in his lap…_

He hadn't cared when Marik's blood had seeped through his jeans, staining them permanently.

But he _had_ cared when the men in the ambulance hadn't let him come with them.

Bakura reached out, trailing his fingers down the smooth curve of the Egyptian's cheek. He was so…

_Perfect_.

He swallowed hard, pushing his pride roughly aside as he did. Bakura pulled his chair closer to Marik, leaning over so his lips brushed gently against the terribly wounded teenager's ear.

"_I love you."_

His eyes closed, waiting for some cry of repulsion or a lightning bolt from the ceiling or something, anything to bring him back to his senses. Nothing happened.

With a sigh, Bakura sat back. But as he watched, a tear slid from the corner of Marik's eye and a weak, yet happy smile turned up the corners of his tan lips.

For the first time in two weeks, Bakura looked out the hospital window and saw the beautiful summer day.

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><p><strong>AN: If it matters, I had to crawl under my bed to finish writing this. Cramped as hell down here. Please tell me what you think. I'm pretty sure they're OOC but frankly, this is one of few stories where I don't mind.**


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